


You, Me

by QueenOfNewOrleans22



Category: Bon Jovi (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:53:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27507157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfNewOrleans22/pseuds/QueenOfNewOrleans22
Summary: A love confession...or perhaps two.
Relationships: Jon Bon Jovi/Richie Sambora
Comments: 8
Kudos: 16





	You, Me

_You hold my heart in your hands_

Richie Sambora was laying on a bed. 

His guitar lay atop his chest, and his fingers, vague and listless, were gently strumming over the strings in a tuneless song from the deepest corners of his mind. A small part of Richie could remember a lyric, something about trees in the winter, but it was distant and hard to discern. And, anyways, it wasn't important, not at that moment. 

Maybe tomorrow, when they were on another flight to nowhere, could Richie give himself a headache in his attempts at remembering, but not then, when life seemed so fragile, so close to falling off the edge and shattering like one of his mother's precious ornaments, crashing and sending millions of tiny, microscopic pieces into the air. 

For now, there was no crowd to shout their name. For now, there were no eyes to track their every movement. 

And a familiar knock sounded on the door, the same one that they'd practiced for secrecy back when they were younger, and it opened tentatively. Jon was standing there, decked out in his outfit from the stage earlier, evidently confused. 

"Hey." Jon said in greeting, closing the door behind him as he walked inside. 

Richie couldn't help his smile. "Hi. Thanks for coming." He said, and then that sounded too formal, too stiff. "Um - I know that this was really sudden, so thanks for coming by. It'll be quick." Richie didn't know that for sure, though. He was under the impression that tonight would either make or break everything - all of those precious moments - and he was scared. 

Rejection or acceptance would face Richie in just a few minutes, and it terrified him, knowing that this could be the last time he saw those familiar blue eyes and not see disgust. Richie knew that he was endangering _everything,_ but he needed to confess before he collapsed under the weight of the secret. 

Standing up and setting the guitar aside, Richie walked across the room in a few quick strides. He reached out, grabbed Jon's upper arm, and pulled him into a hug without thinking in a fast succession of events that made Richie want to dig a hole, crawl inside, and pull the dirt down upon him. 

Jon reciprocated the hug, but the stiffness in his shoulders and back spoke volumes. "Hey. What's wrong, man? You're acting funny." He said, his voice partially muffled by Richie's jacket. 

The truth almost spilt forth from Richie's lips, but he shoved it back down until it couldn't be seen. "Nothing. Just wanted to hug you." Richie couldn't say that he was afraid that Jon would hate him after the confession, and that this was a moment to be treasured. Richie wanted to treasure the last few moments that he could have, if it all went sideways. 

"Right." Jon sounded suspicious, but he wrapped his arms around Richie anyways, as if loathing to ruin the moment by not doing so. 

Taking an extra moment, Richie buried his face in Jon's hair, forced himself to take a deep breathe. He was already in too deep to back down now, anyways, so nothing could be done to act like it was no big deal. He rubbed Jon's shoulder blades. "Do you want to sit down?" He asked. 

Jon was doing the weird frowning thing that made him seem twenty years older than he was actually was. "I want to know why you're acting all weird." He replied. 

Briefly, Richie tightened his grip on Jon's shoulders, relishing the touch before moving away. He could see the suspicion, almost hear the wheels turning in thought, and it almost reassured him that Jon would think before making his decision. 

Except Richie could remember back when they were younger and still living back home. He could remember how Jon seemed to be so callous towards actual romantic relationships, and it scared Richie, knowing that the same rejection that had been shown to so many women could be shown to him. 

Nonetheless, Jon sat down on the bed, his long coat pooling down at his feet, face open and curious for an explanation. 

Unable to sit down, Richie kept standing. "So - I need to talk you something, and you might not - _probably won't -_ react well to it. But I need to tell you this, and I need you to listen." Richie started to pace without meaning to, and that's when confusion turned to concern. 

Jon leaned toward. "Okay?" He said, obviously not expecting what was going to be said, and who could blame him? Nobody would expect for their _totally-not-gay_ best friend to gave some sort of weird crush of them, but that was life, and it fucking sucked. 

But the secret couldn't be kept anymore, and it was time for everything to be laid down for everybody to see, no matter how hard it would be. Richie knew that this would likely end in disaster, but at least he had the memories of happiness, of glancing touches and smiles that seemed to light up the world. 

"I know that this is going to seem weird, and absolutely crazy." Richie stood in the threshold of the bathroom door, staring at himself in the mirror, counting down backwards in his head as he spoke. "But its best for both of us if I just come out and say it." 

A small part of Richie wondered if he was going to be packing his bags by the end of the night. 

"I've known this for awhile now, but it felt impossible to tell you, because you're my best friend, Jon. You know all of my darkest secrets and all of that weird, sappy shit that we always said we weren't gonna talk about but we do anyways because we don't give a damn. You're the one I think about every morning and every night, the one who I look forward to talking to and hanging out with. You're the one who I think about and smile because no matter how much you drive me crazy - and you do, by the way - I love every goddamn second of it." Richie forced himself to turn around. He owed it to Jon to at least give him this dignity in the face of everything. 

Jon looked carefully neutral, his lips thin, hands tightly curled into each other. 

"You're the one who I always seem to be thinking about. You're the one who makes me feel all of those weird feelings. _You,_ Bongiovi, are the one who I want to share my life with in any and every way possible." Richie channeled all of his emotions, all of his feelings, into this one feeling confession, feeling so nervous but, at the same time, eerily calm. 

"And, if you don't want that, I understand. If you want me out of the band, then I'll pack my bags. If you want me to go and confess to the guys that I'm a fucking queer, then that's your opinion and its what I'm gonna do. All of those girls that I went out with? Cher and that weird one from Osaka? When I was with them, I was thinking of _you,_ and how, if you were in their spots instead of them, you would've told me to stop being so sappy and get my head on straight. You're not like me, and that's okay. You're not like _them,_ and I love it, so much." He paused to take a deep breathe. "But please, please, _please,_ don't leave me hanging here." Richie stood there, out of breathe and out of words, awaiting an invitation or an execution. 

But, you know what? That was okay, because at least Richie could remember all of those good times together. 

And in the silence that followed the confession, Richie did. 

He remembered egging some guy's house because he'd destroyed one of Richie's guitars and Jon had gotten weirdly protective, went out, and bought two cartons of eggs with the money he had gotten from his neighbors for fertilizing their yard for a week. 

He remembered finishing the album, and being so exhausted that neither of them could stand up but Jon was hugging him and saying _"we did it"_ and that was the only thing that'd mattered. 

He remembered going on their first tour together, and performing on a real, actual stage, and glancing at each other and realizing that they'd done it, they had done what everybody said that they couldn't do and made an actual, goddamn band. 

Richie was glad for that. 

"Well." Jon suddenly spoke, a small smile beginning to tug reluctantly at his lips. 

The world suddenly stopped spinning, and it felt hard to swallow. 

Jon looked down at his knees, then back up at Richie, and he smiled that wonderful little grin of his that made Richie feel weak. "You really didn't give me a chance to speak there, Sambora." Jon said, voice tinged with the slightest amount of humor. 

Hoping for the best but expecting the worst, Richie stood there, unsure but waiting for that cue. If Jon was mad, he would've done something by now, and all that Richie was seeing was that slightest spark of happiness, bright and yearning. 

"I - ah - don't quite know how to say it as well as you did there, but yeah, I like you too." Jon nodded, looking quite casual, considering that they were confessing their hidden love like schoolgirls in a bathroom. "I like you _a lot."_ He laughed, and there was of disbelief in there, like he couldn't quite believe what was happening. 

"You're the only guy, hell, the only person that I think I could even see myself spending the rest of my life with." Jon said. "No matter how much you ramble when talking." 

Richie laughed, still feeling a little uneasy. "Yeah, I do kinda ramble on." He admitted, starting to feel relief as it coursed through his body. 

"I'm sorry for not telling you." Jon stood up and crossed the room, his pace slow and purposeful. "But I think you did a really great job." He reached up and hooked his arms around Richie's neck. 

"Really?" Richie grinned. "Because there was a few more things that I meant to say, but I didn't get to." 

Jon rolled his eyes. "You can do that in ten years." He said. 

"Promise?" Richie was leaning down. 

With a fond sigh, Jon reached up. "I promise." 

And if, early the next morning, Tico went to go wake them up, and found empty beds and a Do Not Disturb sign hanging off of Richie's door, then he would only sigh and head back to the lobby to tell Dave and Alec that they couldn't place bets anymore. 


End file.
